


Celestial War

by WolftheForsaken



Series: Lucifer works [3]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Archangels, BAMF Chloe Decker, BAMF Lucifer, BAMF Women, Established Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:34:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26015848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolftheForsaken/pseuds/WolftheForsaken
Summary: By her command, the Devil marches on Heaven. One last time.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar, Mazikeen & Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV)
Series: Lucifer works [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/902001
Comments: 40
Kudos: 199





	Celestial War

**Author's Note:**

> Posting this separately as well for ease of access

#

The child’s blood was so very, very red.

“No,” Chloe breathed, frozen in shock before she rushed forward, collapsing to her knees at the side of the body, heedless of the blood that soaked into her clothes. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no.”

Lucifer couldn’t bear to listen to the frantic denials, the pain in her voice enough to shatter lesser beings, but nor could he turn away.

Chloe was his friend. A real one who saw the Being behind the title. For that, he was hers, for that he would _always_ be hers.

For that, her daughter had been slain.

Michael still held the spear; the _same_ spear damn him. A Celestial blade to ensure that there could be no miracles, as if murder wasn’t enough. Beatrice was dead, her soul bound for Hell by dint of being slaughtered by one of his brothers.

Michael’s choice the only judgement needed because it wasn’t like he could ever be wrong, right? Not an angel of the Lord. Not one who had the God-given right to Judge.

Rage was not a new emotion to Lucifer, Prince of Darkness. He’d first burned with it a very long time ago, and in the eons since it had crystallised into something dreadful and permanent inside the very heart of him. This new monstrosity did not anger him, he was almost too tired for that, too apathetic to the endless horrors his Father called justice for anything new to hurt.

So very, very, red.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.”

Lucifer closed his eyes, and knew the world would be forever changed.

“Oh brother,” a new voice interrupted the nightmarish tableau, “What have you done?”

Gabriel, Lucifer would recognise that voice anywhere, but for once he wasn’t talking to Lucifer. For once, those judgemental golden eyes were fixed solely upon Michael.

“Lucifer has walked the Earth for too long, brother, as you well know. I had to stop him; I had to protect the mortals. Father has long since ordered his return Below, it was time His orders were carried out.”

“And now an innocent lies dead at your hands!” Gabriel roared, speaking with seven voices, an echo of trumpets in the last, if the whole city hadn’t heard him, Lucifer would be surprised. “Condemned to Hell for all time! This was not justice, brother. This was _cruel_.”

There was something in the air. Lucifer felt it with his more esoteric senses. A stirring of power. Fate’s hands were mocking him. Again. _Bitch._

“Fuck! He’s got a spear!”

“There’s a dead kid!”

“Ambulance!”

“Murderer!”

“Call the police!”

“Did you hear that?”

“What is he _wearing?_ Is he _glowing?”_

Gabriel had drawn attention, as he always did, and the Messenger made no effort to hide his Divinity. His eyes were pure gold, his skin was lit from within, and above his head there was a hint of something bright and terrible. He also wore a rather iconic tunic and breeches, golden armour strapped on top. On one hip he had a sheathed sword, and on the other, a simple horn worn with age.

Humans being what they were, there was shortly several phones pointed in their direction, recording the family drama for all to see and more arrived with every second.

Lucifer ignored the celestial argument– for now - and stepped up to Chloe’s hunched form. She was hugging the body to her, as if her child still breathed, whispering the never-ending stream of denials into her cooling flesh.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no…”

He could bear no more. He laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed, gently.

“Chloe.”

His tone said it all: I’m sorry. I’m here. It’s too late. She’s gone. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so, so, sorry.

She heard every nuance, for she stiffened under his touch and set Trixie down, with painful gentleness. He drew his hand away, knowing her blame was only fair; he deserved no less and froze himself when Chloe reached back with one bloodied hand. She didn’t strike him though, nor push him away; instead she entwined their fingers together, smearing her daughter’s blood all over him. If he could cry, that would have done it. Absolution.

Shakespeare had had it right. _Out out this damn’d spot. Will these hands ne’er be clean?_

“Is there anything you can do?”

No blame, no demands, just a question, hope that the Devil could help her. And Michael – not brother, never brother again – doubted his ability to love?

When he spoke, it was in a voice of midnight.

“I can not return her life. She was slain by a celestial weapon, a fate more permanent than most. Chloe, it’s worse than you know…”

He didn’t want to tell her, but to hide it from her would be worse. The truth always found a way. He should know.

“Beatrice was condemned to Hell. She was innocent, but because it was Michael who held the blade…”

Chloe nodded, once, her bowed back almost expecting this new blow.

“Can I see her? Can you take me to Hell too?”

This woman. If Father got anything right, it was she. Such magnificence.

“The afterlife is for the dead alone, Detective, and Hell will not be your fate.”

She nodded again, a broken doll. “Suicide is still a mortal sin though, isn’t it?”

Without conscious thought, he locked his hand upon hers.

“Don’t you _dare,”_ he glared at her back, terrified because she _would_ he knew she would and he could not bear to hear her screams join the masses in his Kingdom.

**“MAZIKEEN!”** He roared, speaking with more than one voice. No time for subtlety. Gabriel had probably made it to Youtube anyway, and if he took his eyes off Chloe for a second…well, she had a dead child, a gun, and far too much knowledge for her own good.

His faithful guard appeared, stepping through his shadow to be by his side. Mazikeen looked first at him, no doubt confused and alarmed by the urgency and nature of his summons, then to Chloe’s kneeling form, following the Detective’s blank stare to the body.

Oh. Oh _dear._ He knew his creations had a heart – but he’d never have imagined seeing one break. That _hurt._

Mazikeen knelt on the other side of the body, one hand actually shaking as she caressed a too-still cheek. Tracing a smile that would never be seen again.

“Who?” She did not look at him. Her voice shook, but Lucifer did her the kindness of pretending he hadn’t heard.

“Michael. The spear.”

Nothing more needed to be said.

“Don’t you understand?!”

Gabriel shook Michael, looking worse than in their last fight outside the Gates of Heaven when Lucifer had Fallen. “It’s too late! Look at what you have done! A demon _weeps_ for a mortal child.”

Seven voices, and still there was something more under the words. An echo of prophecy.

“You’re too dramatic brother. One mortal of billions. Her fate weighed against the many vulnerable to Lucifer, and the risk of his vile plans for Earth. It is unfortunate, true, but a trifle in comparison.”

“She was loved by her mother, you stupid, reckless idiot. Her mother who is beloved by _our brother._ What do you think she’s going to do now? What will he do, in her name? His worst crimes were always in the name of love. _Think!”_

Chloe stood. Instantly, Lucifer gave the shattered woman his full attention.

“Lucifer. Will a prison hold…him?”

There was no need to ask whom she referred to. “No.”

“Will your family punish him?”

Even to protect her heart, he would not lie. He was the eternal scapegoat; Father would blame him for this, not Michael, the obedient one. “No.”

Chloe looked at Michael, a seed of his own immortal rage in her eyes. “Can a mortal hurt him?”

What a Valkyrie she would make, if only it were possible. “No.”

“I see.” She looked down at her bloodied hands, and then looked at him, eye to eye.

“Kill him.”

Lucifer looked at Michael, once so dear in his heart, still arguing with Gabriel who was now shaking him, with tears in his golden eyes. He looked back at Chloe, broken, her light fading, and thought of blood so red.

He was old, eternal, he’d been around long enough to know when the world balanced on a knife’s edge, to know when one choice, one moment in time could change everything. He could feel it in the air, could feel the ripples of Fate and Time and Knew that this was one such pivotal Moment.

As if it was even a choice.

Lucifer took Chloe’s left hand, and brought her stained knuckles up to his lips as he met her gaze, letting his inhuman eyes answer her.

If she knew that the last person whose order’s he’d obeyed was the Almighty, she didn’t acknowledge it.

Lucifer dropped her hand, and turned.

Gabriel, also an archangel, was just as sensitive to the nuances of the universe, to dear old dad’s long seeded plans, as he. Gabriel Knew there was a Choice to be made here, in this fragile second, and he Knew which Lucifer had Chosen.

“Oh brother,” Gabriel whispered, looking at Michael with pity and fury both. “See what you have done! Our Fallen brother will wage war anew for love! It is too late now.” He unclenched his hands from Michael’s shoulders and backed away. “It’s too late for all of us.”

Always a witness, Lucifer scorned, never interfering. Coward.

“Brother,” Michael acknowledged Lucifer’s approach. “I trust you’ve learned your lesson? Enough with your games. The mortal plane is forbidden to you, as you-“

A twist of his wrist summoned his old infernal blade to his hand, pulling it from the void where it awaited his call. One half-step forward, stepping into the turn, two hands on his blade, a flawless swing, and he cleaved Michael in half.

The bastard dared to look surprised.

It took a moment, for gravity to assert itself, and then the body split, from shoulder to hip, and dropped in two separate pieces on the asphalt with a meaty thump-thump, blood pooling rapidly at their feet. The spear clattered next to him, glow fading.

There were more screams from the mortals, but neither Lucifer nor Gabriel paid them any attention.

Lucifer flicked the blood from his blade with the ease of long practice, and then held it loosely at his side. Another brother killed for Chloe. Michael. _Michael._ They’d been Created together. Flown for the first ever time together. Fought together. Then they’d fought eachother and he’d Fallen, Michael’s spear at his neck. Now Michael’s blood stained Lucifer’s shoes.

Not so immortal after all.

“You didn’t warn him,” he said, the ice in his heart freezing his face and voice.

“He made his choice. You made yours.”

“We didn’t get Free Will, Gabriel. I took issue with that, as you may recall.”

“Oh I remember the War, brother, fighting on the Celestial planes. A third of our siblings lost, ruined by your rhetoric – and here we stand, an eon later about to do it all again.”

“I sense blame in your words, Gabriel. How dare you, when you saw it all and did nothing? One word would have warned Michael, but you kept silent.”

“I do not want to see a Celestial War again, brother. Forgive him, and let it be settled. A life for a life. Justice.”

Lucifer laughed, and heard windows shatter and yet more people scream.

“Why are you asking _me?”_

Gabriel possessed at least some intelligence, for he turned to Chloe.

“Will you forgive Michael, Chloe Decker? Will you let this end here and now, the scale balanced?”

“Can you give me back my daughter?”

“I can not.”

“Can God?”

“Yes.”

“Will he?”

Gabriel hesitated. Chloe immediately turned to Lucifer and Lucifer forced himself to meet her devastated eyes. Hope was cruel. He couldn’t do that to her.

“He will not. To do so would be to acknowledge blame and guilt. He is the Lord. It is _never_ his fault.”

Chloe looked at her blood stained hands. She looked at the body of her child.

“ _No._ How could I stand aside and let that monster rule uncontested? When what happened to T-T- _Trixie,”_ she visibly swallowed down her grief, though her eyes still burned with primal rage, “could happen to a billion other mothers? For loving someone he disapproves of? No.” She met Gabriel’s eyes and held her ground. “No.”

_Magnificent._

“This means war, Chloe Decker,” Gabriel warned. “War like you’ve never known it. Seas will burn. Stars will die. The earth will shatter beneath the powers we’ll bring to bear. Humanity will perish.”

“His methods are on him. If your God would allow so much suffering – then he’s not fit to rule. Evil prospers when good people do nothing. Lucifer,” she turned to him then, and Lucifer could barely look at her, so bright was her soul. If she had been Adam – he would have knelt. But only when Father removed himself from meddling directly did one like her arise. Telling, that.

“I know I’m asking a lot – more than I can even understand,” she reached for him and he felt weak beneath her light, “but can you, will you –“

“Yes,” he breathed, dancing on the edge of madness, “Yes, my love. Of course I’ll stand with you. We’ll fight together, make war on Dad – until the end.”

She met his grin with a simple kiss and Lucifer sensed the shifting of the winds once more.

“Lucifer,” Gabriel pled, “Please don’t do this. It’s not time.”

“Time? What do I care for Dad’s plans? My Queen demands justice, Gabriel. Heaven has slain her child and refuses to recant. There is nothing left now, brother. Nothing but death. Consider this my formal declaration – as soon as we’ve seen to Beatrice’s body – the Devil marches on Heaven, one last time.”

#

The videos went viral.

Of course they did, _humans._

Misspelt comments decried the whole thing as a hoax. Experts appeared on the news to discuss the footage. They talked about _pixilation_ and _special effects_ and _publicity stunt._

Reporters tried to get into Lux, the police station, only to be thrown out by strange people, who were just a little off, their eyes too bright, their conversation eerie. Their strength caught on camera. Their fangs.

_Cosmetics._

Church attendance soared.

So did the line to get into Lux.

People came forward and shared their stories about a man who could walk away from machine guns. A man who ignored locks; A man who with one glance knew their deepest secrets. They never called them _sins._

People hosted _End of the World_ parties.

People started stockpiling.

The world waited.

On the day of the funeral, there were a hundred cameras from all over the world, pointing at the graveyard.

They were not disappointed.


End file.
